


Routine

by FemmeSpice



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Forced Marriage, mentions of rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 11:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemmeSpice/pseuds/FemmeSpice
Summary: "Every night he would come to her and every night she would endure him."A look at Sansa and Ramsay's nightly routine





	Routine

It had been two weeks since their marriage. A rhythm had been established, a routine set. Every night he would come to her and every night she would endure him. 

Her life at King’s Landing had not prepared her for the worst of it but it had hardened her more than she realized. She was grateful to that, her ability to withstand his cruelty as much as she could. To meet his gaze and stand tall when he first entered her room and baited her with harsh remarks. He mocked her, tried to get her to beg or cry or struggle. He expected a a fighter like her father, like Robb, or even Arya. To leap forward to defend herself the way she had heard her mother leapt to defend her children. For the northern girl to bite at him like frost. 

But what use was there in that? All of them were dead. Locking her emotions within herself like a fortress had kept her alive so far. And she had long ago learned not to give these power hungry men what they craved most. 

“No. You won’t fight back against me. You’re a proper lady, aren’t you?”

He reached out and stroked her cheek, the lightness of the touch making Sansa tense. She could understand Ramsay’s cruelty; it was his moments of feigned tenderness that worried her most. 

“That’s why you’re here. You’re my gift. My reward for all my successes.”

His hand moved to the back of her head and he stepped closer, his mouth nearly on hers. Still she did not retreat. 

“Miranda is fun and she understands me in a way you never will but you, my lady, are soft in ways she is not. That makes you satisfying in a far better way.” 

Finally she found her voice. 

“Don’t tell her that. She hates me enough as it is.”

“She is envious. Always has been.”

“Being your...wife is one thing. I will not abide being her enemy as well.”

“Why is that?”

“This is my home even if your banners fly here. I will not be made to feel like an outsider by a girl whose father keeps dogs.” 

He tilted his head back and took her in. She could feel his fingers grasp her hair and pull it tightly, wrenching back so that she had to look up at him. 

He kissed her then. Rough and with too many teeth. She remained frozen as always. 

When he at last he finished he took a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Miranda has more emotions than she likes to admit. Your presence, our marriage, cuts far deeper than anything I could physically do to her. It’s another one of our games, you see. Miranda fancies herself my equal but now that I am legitimate there is no way for that to be. I like to remind her of that.” 

“That seems cruel to do to someone you love.”

He laughed. 

“I do not love Miranda. I keep her. She amuses me and she is very pretty. Though not as pretty as you.” 

Her cheek stung before she could register him moving to strike her. She held a hand to it, feeling it swell already, and she let out a gasp. 

Even Joffrey had never let her face be hit. He liked it, he had said. Every blow had been to her body where no one but him could see unless he wanted them too. He had displayed her as another sign of Lannister wealth but the Bolton’s trophies were hunted beasts and flayed men. 

She hated Ramsay then. To make her miss Joffrey and his childish antics. 

Ramsay grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to bed. It was swift as always and just as painful. He slapped her face a few more times and held her down even though she did not fight. She would not dignify this with fighting. Instead she dreamt of faraway places while he grunted above her. 

When he finished he wiped himself on her nightgown and went to the door. 

“I will send Miranda to clean you up. The mess will upset her but I think it will make her very happy to see your face bruised. Goodnight, my sweet wife.”

The lock clicked behind him and only then did Sansa openly weep.


End file.
